


Slime

by Gobetti



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Sburb Session, Anal Sex, Fluff, M/M, Slime creature, Slime monster
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-23
Updated: 2012-08-23
Packaged: 2017-11-12 17:35:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/493889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gobetti/pseuds/Gobetti
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dave sleeps in the tub and walks as silently as a streaming river and you’re more and more fascinated by him with each passing day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Slime

**Author's Note:**

  * For [eyecandyrlyburns (tumblr)](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=eyecandyrlyburns+%28tumblr%29).



> Well, this was fun! :D
> 
>  
> 
> \--

You meet him during a visitation to a chemicals fabric, all huddled up and hidden away at a dark corner where nobody could see him.

Nobody but you, that is.

You never let him out of your sight after that.

When you bring him home after fleeing from the factory, your father raises an eyebrow at you. He received a worried phone call from your teacher, telling him that you had disappeared from the rest of the group, and you shyly apologize as he scolds you, gently but firmly. But when you explain everything to him, he nods and silently accepts the newest member of the family, saying that he’s just glad you’re both okay.

Dave sleeps in the tub and walks as silently as a streaming river and you’re more and more fascinated by him with each passing day.

The first time he allows you to touch him it’s, at the very least, intriguing. You intertwine fingers with him, resting your palm against his own. Though a bit sticky, wet and very cold, he’s  _solid_ , something you honestly didn’t expect. You squeeze his hand a little, and all of the sudden his “flesh” becomes a gooey liquid, making your hand literally sink inside his own in the blink of an eye. You yelp loudly, but he just grins as you relax, as you become accustomed to the sensation and less and less freaked out with the feeling of his red slime enveloping your hand.

He’s comfortably warm now, warm and moist like the inside of someone’s mouth, and you feel something akin to a pulse thrumming on the surface of your skin, like there’s blood flowing all around his slushy form. When you tell him that, he looks down to his own blotch-like hand, a little lost in thought.

“You can’t hurt me if you try to stab me when I’m expecting it, because I’ll just make my body swallow up the knife.” He says, and you keep close attention to his face even as the goo starts spreading up to your wrist and some of it drips down onto the floor. “But if you catch me by surprise, like say, stab me on the back while I’m distracted, then, well.”

There’s a tense moment of silence. When you look down he slowly pulls his hand back, fingers and palm and wrist becoming whole and solid again. You ask him how the hell does that even work, how can blood flow through him if he doesn’t even has veins, but all he does is shrug.

His best answer is that he has absolutely no fucking idea either.

You can’t really blame him for is ignorance.

All you can do is feel a little sad for him.

 

\--

 

Little by little you start to unravel the mystery that is Dave.

For instance, he doesn’t have any bones. His joints and limbs move as if he does, but he actually doesn’t, and that’s how he can transform his arms and legs into a pool of red liquid in the blink of an eye. How the hell he manages to stand and not fall into a puddle of mush is a mystery just as big as how he’s alive in the first place.

He does have teeth, though, but they’re only slightly sturdier than the rest of him, which means he can’t eat peanuts or chew candy cane. He says he actually doesn’t miss that kind of stuff that much, and that nowadays he prefers soup to crunchy shit like that.

Another curious thing is that he does have internal organs; thankfully the liquid in his torso is a little opaque, so you can’t actually see them (Dave told you once he could actually thin out the slime and become transparent for a little while if you wanted to see it, but after he did it that one time for about five seconds you kindly asked him to _never ever do it again_ ). They’re all neatly arranged inside him, completely functional and flesh-like.

He doesn’t pee, though; you found that out by asking him one day while you two were brushing your teeth in the bathroom.

“Nah, dude.” He says, opening the tap and gathering water on his hands. “I absorb all water, including the liquids inside fruits and food. I can only poop. Though I guess you could’ve lived without knowing that one, huh?”

You laugh, pushing him by the shoulder. “Don’t be stupid, Dave, everybody poops!”, but he looks down at the sink, a little sad.

“Not everybody’s nearly translucent, though.” He murmurs, almost to himself, and you change subjects with the speed of a lightning bolt.

Since his organs are a little harder to control, he says he can’t melt and flatten the goo of his torso as well as he can do it with his legs and arms, but he can change his body shape, like give himself unbelievably fake looking abs or a beer belly. More often than not you two laugh and snicker at his antics, but he says it would be too wearing to hold the fake appearance for long, so what you see every day is exactly how he looks.

He does get a little chubby when he drinks too much water, though. You tease him about it every time it happens, and he frowns and tells you to fuck off while you giggle at his awkwardness. You never keep the joke for long, though, always afraid you’ll touch a sore spot and hurt his feelings for real.

But Dave’s pretty much made of sore spots, unfortunately.

He always gets  _really_  down whenever he’s reminded of how different he is.

“I’m not different, Egbert, I’m a fucking freak.” He tells you one day, his voice louder than usual, a mix of anger, frustration and hurt. You furrow your brows up.

“I’ve seen and met and heard about lots of freaks, Dave.” You calmly explain, your voice serious like you mean business. He senses what you’re trying to convey and looks at you from the corner of his eye. “You’re a good guy, not to mention funny, intelligent and nice. So, no, you’re not a freak. You’re  _different_ , you’re special, unique, whatever you want to call it. But you’re  _not_  a freak, so just fucking stop, okay?”

He doesn’t say anything. Instead, he bows his head down and silently slides away to the bathroom.

He speaks again only three days later, during breakfast, while you pour him a glass of orange juice.

“Thanks.”

You give him a small but genuine smile.

“No problem, dude. You want crackers with that?”

 

\--

 

One thing that actually bothers you a little is the fact that Dave doesn’t –  _can’t_  – wear clothes. They all get drenched in his body fluids, so he told you that he gave up on fashion a really long time ago.

“At first I spent like three months inside a swimmer suit, you know, one of those black, waterproof overalls that surfers wear?” you nod, and he nods back. “Well, it made me look like a fucking douchebag. ‘Sides, I don’t feel cold, so why should I bother?”

You think he kind of does have a point there, but.

But.

You see, there’s this thing with teenagers where they compare each other’s dicks by checking if they’re “showers” or “growers”.

You’re a teenager as well, though not  _that_  kind of teenager, because that’s stupid, as if you’re actually curious about other people’s junk, geez. But ever since the first time you saw Dave, you knew he was definitely a shower, and, well... it always makes you kind of uncomfortable when he’s lying on the plastic-covered couch, listening to music on his water proof earphones, legs splayed out and arms behind his head like he’s the king of the jungle.

I mean, it’s not like you  _aim_  to look at it whenever you have the chance! But it’s kind of inevitable when he’s showing off like that.

And when he opens his eyes, noticing your stare, you blush like a fucking school girl and he grins smugly.

Like he fucking _knows_ he’s way more hung than you are.

 “Can’t get your eyes off the goods, now can you, Egbert?” he asks, and you feel your face warming up even more. You bet could fry an egg on your cheek.

“Not my fault if you just let them hang around like that!” you exclaim, flustered, and he just shrugs and closes his eyes again.

“Whatever, man. Just don’t drool on the carpet. Your dad wouldn’t like it, you know what I mean?”

Ugh.

Sometimes you just...  _hate_  him.

The lame, giant cocked bastard.

You go to bed and you pretend you’re not thinking about Dave’s dick, and how it must feel like, and if he can actually get an erection and if he masturbates and if you can pull his foreskin back and how his cum must look and taste like.

Because you’re totally not curious about other people’s junk.

Nope. Not at all.

Not at fucking all.

 

\--

 

In the end, your curiosity gets the best of you.

(no, not regarding _that_ , oh my god!)

Dave’s splayed out on the couch, as usual, one hand over his belly and the other hanging off the couch, placed neatly inside a basin filled with water on the floor. You approach him slowly, worried he might sense or hear you coming, but unless he’s got cat senses or you suddenly trip and fall over him, he’s not going to realize you’re here. The music is way too loud for his own good.

You kneel next to the basin, looking up wearily one last time. His chest is rising and falling slowly; if he’s not asleep he’s at least halfway there.

You should feel bad for what you’re about to do.

Sort of, at least.

Welp. He’ll survive.

“OUCH!!!” he yells just as the needle in your hand punctures his skin. “Dude, what the hell?!?!”

“Wait!” you say, holding his arm in place before he can bring his wrist to his lips, and he frowns at you, pulling the earphones off his head. You come closer, your hold on his arm loosening as you realize he’s not going to try to pull it back again, and you stare at the small hole you just made.

Slowly, like a regular wound, a droplet of blood sprouts, increasing in size as Dave starts bleeding a little. Prickling him was like breaking a pellicle; a really thin and malleable but somehow solid and sturdy pellicle. His blood isn’t as slimy as he is, though; it has the same consistency as regular blood, but it’s not a deep red like it should be. It’s a light red, only a few shades lighter than his slimy body, barely edging on transparent. You bet it’d be fascinating to look at it under a microscope or something.

“You done ogling my bleeding wound?” Dave finally says after a few silent minutes, and you look up at him, almost forgetting you were still gently holding his arm. For some reason completely foreign to you, a light blush spreads through your cheek and you let him go, looking away. Your hand is wet with cold slime, but at the moment you don’t even care.

“Yeah, I… I’m sorry for hurting you. And sneaking up on you like that.”

“Hey man, it’s chill. Your curiosity is remedied. It didn’t even hurt anyway, you just startled me. Also, you managed to outninja the master of stealth, and I praise you for that. You’re a good student, senpai is fucking proud of you, Egbert-san.”

“Hahaha, yeah...” you laugh awkwardly, and the silence that follows is more than a little uncomfortable. He’s still looking down at you from the couch, you just know it, so you keep looking at the reddish water on the basin before you. You don’t know what to say, and you don’t know why you think that there’s something that  _should_  be said.

Your head is swimming with a million different thoughts and you don’t know what you’re doing anymore.

“Hey, Dave?”

And when you kneel up so you’re in level with his face and he doesn’t answer you, just keeps staring at you with his perfect poker face and those deep red eyes, you don’t give yourself time to think about what you’re doing and why.

Especially why.

Things like this don’t need explanation, you think.

You lean in and kiss him, and much to your contentment, he kisses you right back.

You suppose that’s how heaven tastes like.

 

\--

 

It’s been five years since you first met Dave, seven months since you first kissed him, and honestly, you wonder why the hell did it took you that long.

You just covered your bed with Dave’s trusty plastic, the one he uses to protect every fabric lined furniture you have in the house, and when you invite him to it, he hesitates, but eventually climbs up and sits directly in front of you.

“What do you want to do?” he asks, and you give him a shy little smile.

“Whatever feels right, I guess.”

And he grins right back, closing his eyes and leaning in towards you.

You close the distance between you two without a hint of hesitation.

Kissing Dave always felt weird, but good weird.  _Really_  good weird, actually. You faintly realize that he tastes like apple juice and fresh water, like always, and he hums greedily against your mouth. His lips glides wonderfully against your own, leaving a trail of watery goo everywhere he touches, making small droplets slip and drip down your chin. You slide your tongue against his, and you love that he actually transforms it when he’s trying to get you excited: he makes it a little bigger, a little softer, whatever he feels like doing. Sometimes he makes this thing where you can _plunge_ your tongue inside his, and the sensation is... freaking incredible, to say the least.

But this time you don’t stop at kissing. This time Dave doesn’t pull back when he realizes he touched your chest and consequently drenched your favorite shirt with his red fluid, and neither do you flinch away from the coldness of it.

He holds both your arms tightly, pulling your body flush against his, and you shiver with how cold he is, especially when he snakes his fingers on your back and pulls your shirt up. Suddenly you’re feeling hot as fuck, and it’s a shame you can’t undress Dave as well.

Then again, considering that he’s already naked...

You pull away from Dave at the same time your hips grind against his, and he gasps as his already half erection rubs against your jeans and belly. You look down and shyly reach forward, your excitement and curiosity getting the better of you, and wrap your fingers around him.

Wow.

First of all, he’s as sturdy as his fingers, but the slime of his penis is definitely warmer than the rest of his body. You suspect he’s cold when he’s not erect, especially considering how he looks a little redder beneath your palm, and yup, you can pull his foreskin back, how fucking cool. The goo makes this slick noise that gets you rock hard in a fraction of a second, and when you feel him twitch beneath your hand, you know this is a lost battle for your self-restrain.

You quickly let him go to get rid of those tight jeans, and he watches you closely, hands gripping the plastic that crinkles beneath both your weight. The shirt comes after, thrown to the floor, both discarded and forgotten, and Dave gawks at you, fucking gawks, like you’re the one who he’s supposed to be amazed over.

You’ll have none of that shit.

You tackle him down to the bed, and he gasps with surprise as you wrap your arms around his neck and attack his mouth like you’re in the fucking Sahara and he is the first oasis you’ve found in days. He responds just as earnestly, leaning up towards you and wrapping his arms around your middle, and faintly you realize they’re literally melting all over your back, his legs wrapping up around your ankles and thighs.

When you realize that, _oh_ , he’s wrapping his penis around yours, oh my god?? it’s already kind of too late, and you’re widening your eyes and moaning a lot louder than you intended – thank god your dad’s not home, or you’d never live down the talk he’d surely give you both. When you look down, slightly lifting yourself on your elbows and watching the sticky slime cling to your chest and belly and how Dave’s penis has half spread around yours, you think you might faint from blood loss on your head. And when he humps up, grinding his erection against yours and making the goo feel like he’s pumping you, you nearly lose it.

“Ooooh...” you moan lowly, the only coherent thought that comes to you now, and Dave grins, licking his lips and doing it again, only harder. You drop your head to his shoulder, not even caring you’re getting the sticky goo all over your bangs, breath heavy and hot against Dave, and you meet him in time with his thrusts, doing the most awesome hands free frotting ever.

“Fuck, John...” Dave murmurs, his hands barely solid and lukewarm on your shoulder, and he grinds harder, making you gasp and bite down real hard on your bottom lip. “Fuck, man, I need you...”

“Wha...?” you ask, your thoughts a little foggy from all the grinding and sloshing. He stops, much to your dismay, and turns his head to kiss you on the lips again, pulling back to look at you.

“I need you.” He repeats, looking serious and filled with lust. “ _Please_ , man, I fucking need you inside of me.”

And that’s when it hits you. Somehow.

“Oh.” You say, still the only coherent thing from you yet, but Dave, oddly enough, doesn’t seem to mind, instead reaching forward for another kiss. His hand snakes in your hair, clawing at the back of your head to push you towards him while he untangles his erection from yours and maneuvers a little so your penis is lodged snugly between his sticky ass cheeks. He keeps kissing you, probably to try to distract you, but you’re fairly sure that he’s lifting his hips now, kneeling on the bed, flipping things around by lying you down and crouching over you. Your lips are still connected, his tongue and his breath hard and heavy and desperate against your mouth.

When he sinks down on you, though, you see stars.

His insides aren’t just warm, they’re fucking burning in the most delicious way ever. You yell out, arching your back and thrusting your hips up a bit, and Dave moans, sinking down even farther until he has you to the root.

“ _D-Daaave...!!!_ ” you moan, a desperate and needy sound, and he groans in reply, leaning back a little and steadying himself with both hands over your bent knees. You throw your head back and gasp for air when he slowly rises, the warmth and the feeling of goo sliding down your dick a little too much for you to handle properly. He sinks down again, hard and heavy over your hips, and you place your hands on his thighs, your fingers sinking into his flesh a little.

Slowly you two build a rhythm where you meet him halfway up whenever he thrusts down. It’s heaven, you’ve died and you’re in heaven, you’re pretty sure of it, and Dave just keeps moaning beautifully just to prove your point. The plastic wrinkling, the slime making the most erotic sounds you’ve ever heard, the faint smell of fresh water...

“John, open your eyes. Look.”

It’s hard to do it, but you’re a big boy, and when someone asks you so nicely to do something, you sure as hell complies, and—

Wow you’re happy you did.

You know you’ve told Dave that he shouldn’t make his torso transparent anymore, because fuck dude I don’t wanna see your lungs, thanks a lot, but somehow he’s made his intestines transparent along with the lower half of his torso, and all you can see is your dick, all flushed and swollen plunging and twitching inside Dave behind the reddish goo.

“Dave, oh my fucking god!!” you exclaim, almost a little impressed with yourself for coming up with such a coherent phrase, and though he normally would, Dave doesn’t grin, just keeps his face twisted up, concentrated in thrusting and keeping his body looking like the sexiest and kinkiest thing ever. “Dave, fuck Dave, I can’t, I’m gonna...!”

“Do it, John, fill me up, _fuck_...” he murmurs, going just a little faster, and though your body is begging you to close your eyes and throw yourself back on the bed and just _let go_ , you keep your stance, watching as Dave milks you away.

You keep looking for exactly five seconds before you lose it.

It’s like watching a hands free orgasm, though it definitely doesn’t feel that way, what with the way Dave tightens up all around you, shutting his eyes tightly and opening his mouth widely as he screams away. When the last of your orgasm fades, you realize you’ve been fisting the plastic tightly, having ripped it at some point among the whole screaming and thrusting and cumming. You look down at Dave’s dick, bouncing up and down and dripping a lot more than it should be, so you decide to grab a hold of it, help Dave out. You’re a really good friend, gosh.

Five particularly slick strokes later and Dave comes undone, screaming out much like you did, his back arching beautifully and his torso becoming opaque once again as his dick pulses and throbs, spilling out this transparent-but-not-quite cum in your hand. When he relaxes, kind of lying back over your bent knees, you let him go, bringing your hand to your face and inspecting the fresh and warm substance. Dave looks at you with half lidded eyes, chest rising and falling rapidly, and he licks his lips.

You do, too.

“John, don’t—“

Too late, and you bring your palm to your mouth, where your tongue darts out and licks off some of the cum. Dave whines, and it’s kinda hard to tell if he’s aroused or disgusted by the scene, but you really don’t care. You’re a curious little bunny, and you’re determined to discover everything there is to know about Dave.

You pull your partially clean hand back and lick your lips, trying to decipher the taste in your mouth. In the end, you end up going with “Interesting”, and Dave gawks at you from where he’s still melting on your legs and knees.

“You’re fucking impossible, you know that?” he asks, and you giggle, cleaning your hand on the sheets.

“Says the dude who insists on having at least one box of apple juice a day.” You tease him, and he crawls up the bed until he’s lying by your side. You two snuggle together and he ends up laying his head on your chest, one hand lazily curled up over your ribs. You snake an arm around his back and rest your free hand over your own belly. Dave sighs contently.

“Yeah, sure, whatever.” He mumbles against your skin, too tired to argue, and you close your eyes, listening closely to his soft breathing.

After about half an hour later, you tighten your grip on his shoulder and peek down at him.

“I love you, Dave.” You murmur. Dave doesn’t move; for a second you think he’s asleep, disappointment dawning over you, but suddenly he moves his head up and pecks your cheek.

“Love you too.” He says, snuggling up even closer and curling his hand over your skin like a lazy kitten. He’s warm against you, the coldness of the surface of his skin long gone, and you feel the faintest of smiles dawn over his lips as you kiss the top of his head.

After the two of you wake up to the sound of your dad knocking on the bedroom door (he actually came in and saw the two of you and left as silently as possible as if to pretend he didn’t see anything), you realize everywhere Dave was in contact with you has become pruney, as if you were under the shower or inside the tub for too long, and even though Dave apologizes profusely, kind of awkward about the whole thing, you laugh it off and hiss him, smiling the entire time.

Honestly, you feel like you can get used to this.


End file.
